Wearing Caped Superman Socks! Accepting Limits & Still Trying Hard

Superman socks and the to-do list

Am I the only one who tries her heart out and falls far short day to day? Something tells me no.

There’s a lot of pressure to get things done right now. And more things to do than time or strength to do them. Every morning I wonder which things on the list I might make progress on.

Today, my son told me he needed me to repair his new caped “Superman” sock. Go ahead and laugh – it makes me smile to think of it. Of course I had to wash it first. But first I had to find the other one, somewhere in his room…

And he has been asking me for two weeks to cut his hair. So before his cross country team trip this week, he asked one more time. With lots of breaks for my screaming wrists and cramping hands, I DID IT!

Teach Roo math. Phone a friend. Answer a couple emails. Conference call about our session at ACR. Contact the printer about our new RPF brochures. Wash the cross country uniform. Drive my son to class tonight.

It never seems like much gets done very fast. Or maybe I just move much slower with Rheumatoid Disease. Anyway, I practice two contrasting things simultaneously all day long:

1) Trying my hardest

2) Acceptance

The work we’ve been given

Almost thirty years ago, I learned these lines said in a prayer at the end of an Anglican (Episcopal) church celebration:

And now, Father, send us out
to do the work you have given us to do,
to love and serve you
as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.
(Book of Common Prayer, Rite II)

Something struck me years ago about those words. What is the work we’ve been given to do each day? How do we know, so we can tell when we accomplish that? We can’t.

I decided years ago, with four little ones pulling me in all directions and so many different projects going on, that I could pray something like that in the morning, and then just rest, knowing God knows I’ve done my best to be faithful so whatever I did get done was the work I’d been given for that day.

It sounds like kind of a backwards approach, but I think if I let go of either one – faithfully trying or restfully accepting – I might be miserable. This practice goes back years before RD limited me so much physically, so maybe it helped prepare me for living with the struggles of RD. The list is not much better; and Superman I’m not, but I can accept that.